Oneshots
by ColorLikeWhoa
Summary: A series of oneshots. Suggestions accepted. Next up: crackfic. Don't call him Dan.
1. Blue and Green

**A/N: I've noticed that half of my stories are actually one-shots. They don't deserve to be called stories! So, since one-shots seem to be all I'm good at, I am creating this. It's just a random series of drabbles with no list of words, word count length, or all that jazz. Basically, a dumping ground for all the little plot bunnies that attack me.**

**I'd love to write any suggestions you guys give me!**

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><p>Blue and Green<p>

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><p>"I'm gonna do it," I announced.<p>

Tucker and Danny simultaneously looked up from their PDA and telescope, respectively. "Do what?" they chorused.

I swear they rehearsed this.

I took a deep breath. "Dye-"

"SAM! YOU CAN'T THINK THAT WAY!" Tucker hollered, while Danny had rushed to his feet, chair knocked aside.

"Are you depressed? Who's pressuring you? I swear I'll kick their-"

"GUYS! Calm down and listen! I'm going to _dye_ my hair!"

"Oh…" Red colored Danny's cheeks and he sat down slowly.

"What color?" Tucker inquired.

"Light blue and neon green streaks." I fingered my short black locks.

Tucker shook his head slowly, almost knowingly.

"What?" I muttered.

Danny, oblivious as always, spoke up suddenly. "Really? I would've guessed purple... that's your favorite color, right?"

I beamed at Danny; sometimes the fact that he noticed little things like that made me really warm and fuzzy inside.

Tuckers voice broke through my thoughts. "Wow," he said, stretching the word out. "_Radioactive_ green and _baby_ blue. What an interesting combination, Sam. Doesn't it sound familiar?"

I glared at Tucker, sending 'I'm gonna kill you' thoughts that he hopefully caught.

Danny's blue eyes trailed from Tucker to me, still clueless.

Tucker continued, "Almost a _ghostly_ green, if you think about it..."

I resisted the urge to stuff my combat boots down Tucker's throat and resorted instead to stomping one on the ground childishly. "Shut it, Tucker."

He just shook his head at Danny, disappointed.

Danny's face was scrunched in concentration. "…Ghostly green," he pondered, ruffling his shaggy black hair. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "I got it!"

Tucker glanced furtively at me and then faced the now-jubilant Danny. "Seriously?"

Danny grinned and pointed at me. "Blue and green, for Ember! You're an Ember fan!"

I resisted the urge to face-palm.

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><p><strong>...Nice, Danny. His cluelessness makes me laugh sometimes :)<strong>

**If you hadn't noticed, blue and green stand for Danny's eyes as Fenton and Phantom. **

**In my opinion, I don't think Sam would ever do that. Dye her hair Danny colors, I mean. She'd probably do purple and blood red or something. But oh well!**


	2. Bullies

**A/N: The most confusing, nonsensical, and unclear thing you will ever read. Basically, proof of how terrible of a writer I am.**

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><p>Bullies<p>

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><p>Mr. Lancer cleared his throat.<p>

That notion was an indication of something that every student of his knew: a lecture.

"The art of debating-" Something sticky landed on the back of his neck.

Silent giggles erupted around the classroom.

Lancer frowned and continued. "-has been practiced-"

Splat! On his back. Giggles.

"-throughout the ages-"

In his hair. More giggles.

Lancer slammed his hand on the desk, no longer calm. "If Mr. Baxter would refrain from using spitballs during my lecture, we can continue. Mr. Baxter?" He stared at the boy in question.

Dash smirked and put his hands behind his head. "No problem, Mr. L. Please, continue!"

Lancer's eyes bored into Dash's lilac ones, trying to find any hint of remorse or weakness. As usual, he spotted nothing but Dash's own ignorance and cockiness.

Lancer sighed and proceeded to resume his lecture, but not before there was another interruption.

The door burst open and a very frazzled Danny hurried through.

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Lancer," he gasped. "I, uh, got lost."

Lancer pursed his lips and considered giving Danny another detention.

However, Lancer considered the options. When he saw Danny, he saw desperation and confusion. But also potential and motivation. Lancer didn't want to punish the boy more than he really needed. Unlike Dash's interruptions, which were to boost his own morale and popularity, Danny really didn't mean to disrupt Lancer.

Lancer waved Danny's apologies off, motioning for him to sit out. Danny smiled gratefully and hurried to his seat next to his two friends, Sam and Tucker.

No longer in the mood to talk for the hour, Lancer wrote the assignment on the board.

"Debate topic: Bullying," he read out loud. "The class will split into two groups; one that thinks that bullying is bad and should be severly punished, and another that thinks bullying should not be punished at all."

There was a rustling of paper and desks as kids moved around. Predictably, Dash, his football posse and the rest of the 'popular' clique moved to the pro-bullying side, while the outcasts such as Danny, his friends, and the rest of the class went to the other side.

"Anyone from the pro-bullying side care to raise a point?" Hands shot up and Lancer picked Paulina.

"Yeah, um, bullying shouldn't, like, be punished because everyone who gets bullied, like, deserves it."

"Interesting point. A rebuttal?" Lancer chose Sam.

"No one deserves being picked on and ridiculed," she declared.

Miss Manson, Lancer noted, would make a great lawyer.

The pro-bullying side visibly bristled.

Lancer sat in his chair and prepared himself for a great debate. Something all teachers must possess is the ability to turn a lesson into something kids can easily relate to. Once kids really get into it, a teacher's work is done.

Several kids from each side stood up and explained their views and reasons why. From argument to counter-argument, everyone brought up amazing points. Lancer was pleased.

After Paulina voiced her opinion yet again, Dash muttered, "What about Fen-toad? He deserves it."

Lancer spotted Danny, from the other side of the room, flinch and glare at Dash. However, he stayed silent.

Kwan spoke up. "Bullies shouldn't be punished because almost everyone bullies someone. Like my mom- she's really nice- bakes amazing cookies and doesn't get mad at anyone. But she always yells at the cooks at restaurants."

"Very interesting point, Kwan," Lancer approved. "What does the anti-bullying side think?"

Nathan nervously raised his hand. "Um, I think that if bullies never learn their lesson, they'll grow up to be nasty people and the victims will never heal from any mental or physical wounds inflicted upon them." Nathan braced himself, almost like he expected a bully to pounce on him for saying that.

Lancer turned to the pro-bullying side. "But bullies might be bullied by someone else too," Star said. "I mean, maybe they pick on people because someone else picks on them."

"Some people need to grow a spine and stand up for themselves," Dash stage-whispered, staring straight at Danny as he spoke.

Lancer watched as Danny's eyes flash in anger and defiance, but he didn't respond.

"Itty-bitty weak, loser Fen-turd," Dash sang. The pro-bullying side burst into laughter.

Danny stood up; Lancer could see that that had been the last straw for him. "That's it. Have I ever been mean to _any _of you?"

Tucker's hand slowly inched up.

"Not you, Tucker!"

"There he goes again!" Tucker protested.

The rest of the class said nothing.

"Has Dash ever been mean to you?" Danny continued.

Sam and Tucker's hands shot up. Hesitantily, more hands went up and Danny raised his. "See? Why do you still hang around him? Dash is a bully. Don't you see?"

The pro-bullying side stared openmouthed at Danny.

Lancer realized that Danny had just spoken the truth that everyone who claimed to be Dash's friend tried to hide.

Kwan got up. "I still remember the time Dash kicked me out of the A-list club," he said. "That was mean." With that, he moved to the anti-bullying side.

One by one, Dash's side dwindled in size until only he was left. "Really?" he glared at the other side. "Wow, thanks a lot, Fen-"

Lancer interrupted him. "Whatever you were about to say, Mr. Baxter, can wait. Actually, don't say it at all. I believe the class has decided on their opinion- you are a bully."

The bell rang then and Lancer continued over it. "Great debate, everyone! And Mr. Baxter, I will see you in detention."

Lancer couldn't help but smile as the rest of the class left, looking extremely relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

In fact, Lancer's good mood lasted for quite a while. He had done his job of teaching; the students had learned a valuable lesson in English, and in life.

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><p><strong>Please, please, please: How can I make this better? I'm <em>begging<em> for some criticism here! (Criticism, not flames!)**


	3. Race

**A/N: My failed attempt at writing in second person. PLEASE CRITIQUE MY WRITING AND TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD FIX!**

**I know.. pretty quick update. Too bad only ONE person reviewed..**

**FeyWarrior: Wow. Thank you, so, so much for reviewing. I honestly can't tell you how much your review means to me. I'll see if I can do your idea soon :) **

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><p>Race<p>

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><p>It's a race.<p>

You throw yourself into the fray, panting and gasping. You struggle over the first gauzily colored obstacle and slide down, ignoring the inevitable burns your arms receive.

Your head is pounding and your breathing gets heavier by the second. But you have to keep going.

You have to win.

Wiping sweat off your forehead, you wrestle your way through the tunnel, disregarding your aching feet. The tunnel seems to constrict around you like a snake, trapping you, but you wriggle your way free.

As you step out and heave yourself up, you take support from the bendy obstacle near you.

And that's when everything starts to go terribly wrong. The object swings back at full force and thwacks you in the face. Your head snaps back and you swat the objects away...

They keep coming back.

Your head is swirling. Suddenly, you're knocked off your feet, a whirl of colors and lights flashing in front of your eyes.

_No use, _you think wearily.

You stay on the ground, having no strength to get up.

Voices float up to you.

"Danny?" It's Sam, her voice laced with worry. "Danny, BounceU closes in five minutes."

You take the slender hand offered to you and haul yourself up. You glare at the seemingly innocent bendy obstacles.

It was a race, and you had lost.

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><p><strong>BounceU is a little kiddy place where kids can bounce around in moon bounces and obstacle courses <strong>_**that fifteen year olds like me CANNOT PASS.**_** They're brutal, man. I've been knocked down one too many times... **

**Well, actually, I go to JerZ Jump, which is very similar, but is only in New Jersey. Their slides give you really bad slide burns if you go down backwards. (Which is, coincidentally, what I did. Five times.)**

**You might be asking: why would any self-respecting fifteen year old go to such a kiddy place? **

**Answer: Its fun and they have teen nights on Fridays.**

**MY INNER CHILD WILL LIVE ON!**


	4. The End

**A/N: My first 100-word oneshot! Whew, those are harder than you'd think. Read and review?**

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><p>The End<p>

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><p>I backed up, raising my hands up in surrender. "Whoa," I chuckled nervously. "Let's be reasonable!"<p>

She just shoved the gun closer to my face, causing me to flinch involuntarily. "I was done being reasonable a long time ago, ghost."

I stepped back again, and slammed into a ghost shield. _No escaping for once_, I thought morosely. _No disappearing into the ground._

My body was throbbing painfully. _Poison darts are called __poison__ darts for a reason_.

I realized the truth. There was nowhere to go. Not this time.

Smirking, she pulled the trigger.

I closed my eyes and braced myself.

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><p><strong>So who do you think 'she' was? I think it's pretty obvious, but there's more than <strong>_**one**_** possibility ;)**


	5. Pain

**A/N: Another one-shot that's 100 words.. They're actually really fun to write!**

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><p>Pain<p>

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><p>"Well?" he demanded, kicking my stomach again.<p>

I fell headfirst on the cold, hard floor, wheezing and coughing.

I glared at him, my head spinning. It was like all I could see was his sick, twisted face. It made me want to punch him.

Blood ran down my grimy face, but I refused to let him know that I was in pain. I gritted my teeth and tried to get up on my feet.

I barely managed, but I straightened up, wavering slightly. I even let out a chuckle, although it sounded a lot more pained than humorous.

Bad move.

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><p><strong>Ooh.. angsty. Guess who 'he' is!<strong>


	6. Irony

**A/N: Started out as a songfic for Fences, by Paramore… ending as something really, really weird. And short. 100 words, again :P**

**Read and review?**

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><p>Irony<p>

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><p>Popularity <em>really<em> didn't suit Danny well.

Amity Park increased their knowledge of Phantom and he started appearing on the news frequently.

Although Sam claimed that he was photogenic, he didn't like seeing his face plastered on every newspaper and news show. It was unsettling, and he had a complete lack of privacy.

Every time he was Phantom, the inevitable microphone would be shoved up his face.

Laying low as Fenton was the best he could do. At least, until a ghost attacked.

Sometimes, he wondered why he'd even wanted to be popular like Dash and Paulina in the first place.


	7. Likes and Dislikes

**A/N: RomanceOnTheBrain asked for more DannyXSam funny oneshots, so here ya go, I guess.**

**EDIT: I forgot to add: RomanceOnTheBrain asked for a funny oneshot. Unfortunately, this was the best I could do. Sorry!**

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><p>Likes and Dislikes<p>

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><p>"Just say it. It's not that hard! You can do this, Fenton, just come up with some way to delicately put it... Okay, how about this: Sam, I-"<p>

My soliloquy was interrupted by my bedroom door suddenly smacking open with a thud. A black and purple blur whizzed inside at speeds even I couldn't fly at.

"Sam?" I yanked my headphones off and looked up at her. "What're you-"

"It's here, it's here, it's here, it's here!" she shouted, jumping up and down while waving around a black CD case.

I'd never seen her this excited. "Deep breaths, Sam. In, and out." I put my hands on her shoulders in a comforting manner. "What's up?" I asked.

She grinned, a maniacal light in her violet eyes. "Morbid Anti-Social Youth released their _newest_ album!" She waited, bouncing on her toes, as if she wanted me to shriek in happiness as well.

Instead, I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. _Now or never, Fenton. Just tell her. _"About that…" I hesitated. "Listen, Sam. I need to confess something."

She stopped her incessant bouncing reluctantly, and then sat down next to me. "What?"

I sighed. "I don't... like Morbid Anti-Social Youth."

She stared at me blankly.

"I don't like Goth music." The words just stumbled out; I flinched, waiting for her to slap me or at the very least, yell at me.

"I'm sorry, I just…" I was on a roll now; once the major revelation was out, I spoke a little easier.

She just sat there, arms limp.

"I don't like the darkness of it all. I don't like black, or skulls, or even blood. I don't like poetry slams. I don't even like rhyming!" (I shuddered at that, memories of Christmas and oranges resurfacing.)

"I don't like emo music, or screamo music, or death metal. I don't like Morbid Anti-Social Youth." I ended, hoping that my murder wouldn't be too publicized.

She stayed silent for about five minutes after my confession. Finally, she spoke up, "But why do you even listen to them?"

I bit my lip. "I like… you."


	8. Star's Story

**A/N: Brief(ish) drabble based on some challenge I saw a long time ago, but never wrote until now. So, for whoever started the challenge about Danny showing up somewhere, hurt and bleeding the wrong blood, here it is. **

**Warning: One (**_**one**_**!) mild curse.**

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><p>Star's Story<p>

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><p>There's a celebrity passed out in my living room.<p>

I know the situation is way too dire for this, but it's all that I can process at the moment. Maybe my minds going into shock. Or post traumatic stress disorder (Hey, I watch a lot of House. I know a few terms, okay?)

Anyway, I should probably explain why _Danny Phantom_ is currently passed out on my couch.

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><p>It all started with an ad on TV, surprisingly enough. I don't even remember what ad- some hair straightener that I had to "Buy now!" or I'd die of lack of straight hair. Anyway, I obviously had to have it (or at least, Paulina thought I did), so I ordered it.<p>

Three days later, I paced around the hallway, biting my nails. When was it going to come? Paulina was getting impatient, constantly texting me as if her life actually did depend on it.

Finally, the doorbell rang, chiming all through the house in the tune of some classical piece.

I flung it open, suppressing my excitement and putting on an annoyed look. "You're late. Is there some sort of refund-?"

I broke off, gaping at the eyesore in front of me.

Danny Phantom, Amity Park's hero, was clutching the edge of my door like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing any moment. His usually bright, snowy hair was dirty and filled with leaves and little twigs. His face was covered in painful-looking scratches, which were bleeding ectoplasm (well, I guessed that ghosts bled ectoplasm, seeing as they're dead), and his electric green eyes were bloodshot. The eminent black and white jumpsuit was torn and covered in mud; his gloves were ripped, revealing hands with painful burns. But worst of all was his chest- right down the middle of his DP encrusted chest- was a gash, from his neck to his belly button.

And it was bleeding _red_.

"Help…me," he gasped. And then he crashed on my welcome mat, out cold.

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><p>I stare at the ghost boy before me. He's bleeding all over the couch, some strange mixture of sickly green and dull red, like a Christmas tree. I want to slap myself for comparing such a joyful scene to this one, but instead, I get up and hurry back with a first aid kit.<p>

_Where to start_, I wonder. I didn't know how to deal with the huge cut, but it was the most severe, so I figure I'll start there.

Using antiseptic wipes and loads of water, I clean the cut the best I can, and then wrap it with some beige bandage roll I'd found.

It's a bit strange; I mean, the ghost kid's still unconscious. Usually, he flies off by now, into the blue, like any regular vigilante would.

As if reading my thoughts, he jolts awake, eyes wild and darting around like a squirrel. "Wh-what? Where am I?" He tries to get up, but spazzes and falls back on the couch, gripping his sides. "Ow..."

He notices me, and what I have been doing, and suddenly, I feel awkward.

I drop the bandage roll and back away. "Sorry, you showed up, and you were bleeding, and I didn't know what to do and it was…" I trail off, realizing that I'm starting to prattle.

Also, he looks really uncomfortable and scared. I hope it isn't because of me, although it probably is. He hides it well, though, and asks politely, "What am I doing here?"

I take a deep breath, for the first time, hoping that I will not mess up. "You showed up at my door and you were bleeding… red. Is that normal for a ghost?"

He glances down at himself, seeing the state he is in for the first time. "Um…" He groans suddenly, bending over.

"I'll get the-" I don't know what I'm about to say next, thought, because a blinding blue light abruptly emits from his torso.

They travel up and down his body, and all he says is: "Crap."

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><p><strong>Awkward, coarse-language ending because I didn't know how else to end the story. Whoops. <strong>

**Kinda like the way I wrote Star's POV.. Review?**


	9. Pure Evil

**A/N: Danny's (and my) hatred of toast, in a one-shot. Be afraid. Be very afraid.**

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><p>Pure Evil<p>

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><p>Eating breakfast usually doesn't end well. At least, for me it doesn't.<p>

It was regular Sunday morning. All four of us were at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. Well, Dad was anyway, scarfing down his waffles like there was no tomorrow. Mom was preoccupied with some new science magazine, while next to her, Jazz had a stack of psychology books in front of her, and was devouring _them_ faster than her bowl of cereal. And me? I was trying hard not to fall asleep (hey! Nine in the morning _is_ early!) and avoid the stack of toast in front of me at the same time.

Suddenly, the floor rumbled, causing all of the glass and water around me to vibrate.

"GHOST!" Mom and Dad yelled in unison.

_Uh-oh,_ I thought. My ghost sense went off, and I was on high alert as well.

The toast in front of me shook violently, and turned an intense shade of green. The whole stack jumped up, suddenly animated.

"TOAST GHOST!" Mom shrieked, whipping out her ecto-bazooka.

"Wait, Maddie! Its toast!" Dad held his hand in front of her gun, and lowered it.

Mom looked at him questioningly; Jazz and I followed suit.

"Its toast," he reiterated. "A toast ghost. Come on, Maddie! Think of its crunchy, dry goodness!"

Mom actually put her gun away, and considered Dad's words. "Hmm... crispy righteousness or ectoplasmic badness?"

I rolled my eyes. _It's evil, obviously, ghost or not. _I picked up Mom's fallen gun, and shot the toast myself.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Dad threw his hands into the air, dropping to the ground and wailing.

His echoes of sorrow could be heard for quite a while afterwards, but I couldn't care less.

_Toast is the essence of all evil._


	10. The Doctor to Dannyboy

**A/N: Yes, its a Danny Phantom and Doctor Who crossover.**

**Used to be its own story, but when I realized that I was never, ever going to update, I've decided to put it in here. Yay? **

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><p>The Doctor to Danny-boy<p>

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><p>English class. The class that evokes malevolence and cruelty. Its dusty books which hold malice in forms of metaphors and imagery. Its chalkboards, which, when written upon, screech vindictively. Only students know the tribulations that English class truly possesses. The clock ticks slowly, torturously, mocking the students by moving as leisurely as possible. The students abhor the homework, the tests, the class work, and especially the teacher.<p>

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><p>Danny tried to pay attention in English. Really, he did. There was just something so tedious and just plain <em>boring<em> about Mr. Lancer, as usual.

So he usually played hang-man with Tucker instead, until his ghost sense appeared and he had to leave.

It was a drizzly Friday morning, when he came. Danny was winning his fifth game of hangman (easily, when all Tucker can think of are names of all of his PDAs). Sam was watching them intently; she had given up on taking notes a long time ago.

Mr. Lancer was so engrossed in his lecture on the auditory imagery present in A Tale of Two Cities, and how it developed the motif of echoing footsteps, that he didn't notice that more than half of his class was asleep, texting, or doodling. His voice became a monotonous hum in the background, much like the heater or the incessant rain on top of their heads.

Danny gasped suddenly; a cold, blue swirl of air escaped his mouth, and he automatically raised his hand. "Mr. Lancer, can I-?"

Some muffled screams arose from outside the room, probably caused by the ghost.

The door swung open with a bang. Lancer leaped about five feet in the air, his chalk dropping on the carpet. Danny braced himself, expecting the ghost.

Instead, a young looking man wearing a tweed jacket and a red bow-tie bounded inside, pointing a blue tipped device all around the room. He spun several times, his device making an odd resounding buzz.

A younger looking woman with red hair and a brown leather jacket followed behind him, gasping and clutching her stomach. "Doctor," she panted. "Why did we run all the way to this classroom?" She had a strange accent that Danny couldn't quite place- British? Scottish?

The device that this so called "Doctor" was brandishing chirped louder when it reached Danny, who had been in the process of getting his Fenton Thermos so he could deal with the ghost.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, delighted, and rushed to Danny's seat. "Amy, I found the little bugger!" He definitely had a British accent.

Danny stared at him, shocked. "What?"

The man, the Doctor, opened his mouth to speak again, when a third interruption occurred. Another man, wearing a plaid shirt, rushed inside, clutching a red bucket.

"Doctor, its coming, its right behind me, but I found the bucket!" He held it up for approval.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, turning away from a thoroughly confused Danny. "No, Rory! I said that this reminds me of the time I used a red bucket, I asked you to get the red bucket, but then I said, '_Forget the bucket_!' Anyway, I found the right gadget! It was right under our noses, the whole time!" He tapped his nose covertly and chuckled.

Mr. Lancer finally gained his speech. "What are you doing here?" he blurted out. "This is a high schoo-"

The ghost finally arrived, and Danny was almost relieved by this normality. He didn't care that he was still Fenton, and hadn't gotten a chance to escape. He had the Fenton Thermos, so it was all good.

The ghost was green and purple and _big_; it looked like the Minotaur from Princess Dora's realm, but without horns on its head. It bellowed at Mr. Lancer, visibly blowing Mr. Lancer back a few steps. Lancer screamed girlishly and ran out of the room, leaving the class to fend for themselves.

Danny, Sam and Tucker, now standing, tried to look as scared as the rest of the class, which was screaming their heads off and running in every direction.

The ghost turned to face the class, and prepared a ball of green fire in its hand. It directed it at Dash, who looked like he was going to pee in his pants.

The strange Doctor winked at Danny, snatched the thermos out of his hand, and whirled around, aiming at the ghost. Within a split-second, it had been sucked in.

"Whew. I'm a bit rusty but not bad," he commented, throwing the thermos in the air and catching it like he was an expert.

Danny blinked. "_What_?"

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><p><strong>I do in fact hate English class, although its the reason I have pretty good writing skillz. And A Tale of Two Cities- I don't own it, and its the longest, hardest and most confusing book I have ever read in English. The most interesting book, though.<strong>


	11. Musical Enigma

**A/N: I (sort of) did #4 for The Monkey Girl Danny Phantom 2012 Challenge: "**# 4** Summary: Maddie decides to follow Phantom around in order to figure out his weakness, but what happens when she finds him training at the park, playing guitar and singing songs (in a remarkably good voice at that too), talking on a cell phone, and the most shocking of all: seeming human as he comforts his hurt cousin/clone, Danielle. Rules: None really, just follow the summary and you're good." **

**I really only focused on the guitar part, but I might add more later!**

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><p>Musical Enigma<p>

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><p>Following Phantom wasn't <em>really<em> that hard.

Maddie'd used the (improved by her) Fenton Finder to track him down, and located him in Amity Park's local park.

Piece of cake.

She hopped into the Ghost Assault Vehicle and drove there, bringing a variety of ecto-guns along.

Simple.

She found him seated under a tree in some secluded area, and dodged behind some bushes nearby before he noticed her.

Easy.

She brought out her binoculars, and gazed through, to find Phantom sitting and...playing the guitar?

Not so easy.

Maddie blinked, but he was still there, peacefully strumming the instrument. It was weird to see such a strange, unearthly kid holding such a normal, ordinary guitar.

He was concentrating on his strumming, and Maddie could hear him mumbling chords as he played them.

"E... G... C.. A... no wait, Am..."

Maddie almost grinned. He reminded her of Danny, who had just purchased a guitar and was struggling to learn it. In fact… Phantom's guitar looked an awful lot like Danny's.

It was an acoustic guitar, coated with a shiny dark blue finish.

Maddie shook the thought out of her head, and concentrated on Phantom instead.

He had a strange expression on his face as he tried to finger a particularly difficult chord, his tongue sticking out and his brow furrowed in concentration. Maddie almost laughed at his face, but refrained from it and took notes on him instead.

"Okay," Phantom muttered to himself. "E... G... C... Am..." He started singing along to his guitar, much to Maddie's surprise.

_"Oh My! Feels just like I don't try_

_Looks so good i might die_

_All i know is everybody loves me_

_Get down, Swaying to my own sound_

_Flashes in my face now_

_All i know is everybody loves me_

_Everybody loves me." _

Maddie watched, transfixed. Phantom knew how to sing... _well_? And a OneRepublic song, too? (In the back of her mind, Maddie couldn't help but remember Danny, who loved the song because of some sort of inside joke with his friends.)

_Crunch!_ She'd accidentally stepped on a leaf. Maddie cringed as Phantom's head snapped up, green eyes alert and ready.

She ducked, not daring to breath, and the moment he returned to his guitar, she ran for it.

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><p>Safely back home, in the lab, Maddie studied her findings. Phantom, learning to play the guitar! The thought was absurd, and she couldn't even believe herself. But she'd seen it, so there had to be some explanation.<p>

Her brain hurt from trying to solve Phantom, the ghost-kid enigma. Sighing, she stood up and decided to get some coffee.

The kitchen was silent, and Maddie relaxed, sipping her coffee in peace.

Suddenly, the front door opened and slammed shut, signifying Danny's entrance.

"Hey, Mom!" he called from the living room.

Maddie watched him walk into the living room, lugging his guitar case. Sam and Tucker closely followed, and waved at Maddie when they saw her.

"We're gonna go practice in my room, 'kay?"

Maddie nodded, preoccupied with other thoughts. She gazed at the guitar case. Could it be?

"Danny, honey, what color is your guitar?" Maddie asked.

"Dark blue. You bought it for me, don't you remember?" Danny asked, puzzled.

He and his friends went upstairs, leaving Maddie more confused than ever.

She could accept the fact that her Danny and Phantom somehow had the same guitar.

But where did Phantom get his guitar from?

* * *

><p><strong>May or may not be continued.<strong>

**PS- Song is Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic.. I kinda like how it talks about publicity and stuff, which Phantom is definitely getting a lot of. And the chords are the real chords to the song. **

**Okay, read and review? **


	12. Star's Story, part 2

**A/N: Due to some people asking for this to be continued, here's Star's Story, part two! **

**Oh, and the thing in italics in the beginning is Star's dazed inner thoughts. Which, if you count, has 10 syllables in each line (except the first three, which add up to ten!) HA! I am **_**good**_**.**

* * *

><p>Star's Story (part two)<p>

* * *

><p><em>Blue. <em>

_Blue lights. _

_Blinding blue lights. They're like rings._

_They travel up and down, two opposites;_

_(like two regular, ordinary cars, _

_driving farther, farther, farther away.)_

_And they leave a visible trace of red _

_and white and blue, wiping the others out;_

_Blue eyes, not green eyes; Black hair, not white,_

_(Still bloody though.)_

_Familiar, yet unfamiliar… _

Through the swirls of my memories, words, and imagination, a name pops up out of my subconscious.

Danny.

_Fenton._

* * *

><p>"Hello? Um… hello? Are you okay?" A voice breaks through my internal stream of consciousness.<p>

I blink, my eyes not entirely focusing on the black and white blur looming on top of me.

"Wakey-wakey?"

_Strange,_ I think. The voices sound weird and eerie. Kind of… ghostly.

My eyes snap open, and I bolt upright, which quickly proves to be dumb.

"OW!" yelps the shadow I've just collided with.

"Sorry!" Eyes watering, I clutch my head, which is now throbbing twice as painfully.

I peek at the boy next to me, but my mind doesn't seem to want to register the truth. It's _Phantom_ sitting next to me. The _ghost_.

But it had been _Fenton_. Fenton, gazing at me with guilt and "ohcrapness" and alarm. Hang on- Was Fenton… Phantom?

"Oh, my head," I groan.

Had my brain just created a hallucination where the famous town hero had just transformed into the school outcast? (Had I accidentally eaten too much sugar?) But no- I couldnt just dream up something like this. And why _Fenton_? If anything, if anyone, why him?

"Are you okay?" Phantom asks sheepishly.

I blink again, not quite registering his words yet. A stranger thought comes back to me, like a recurring nightmare. "Oh my god. Oh my _GOD_. Oh _my_ god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh-"

Phantom clamps his gloved hand on my mouth, ceasing my nervous babbling.

I peel it off, eyes wide. "Are you… Am I dreaming?" I pinch myself, but the world doesn't fade away and I don't wake up. "Wait- what exactly happened?"

Now it's Phantom's turn to look confused. "I'm not exactly sure… I was fighting this other ghost, you see, and then I was hit in the chest." He glances down at his newly bandaged chest. "I found the bandage roll nearby and helped myself, by the way. Anyway, I was hurt, and bleeding, so I landed at the first house I saw. Then, you were fixing my wounds and then…" He paused. "…then you just fainted. Maybe it was the blood? I'm sorry about that."

I frown, wondering why he hesitated during his explanation. Then the word 'blood' clicks in my head.

"Right. Blood. Yours was red," I claim matter-of-factly. (_Shock equals me being bipolar. Freaking out one minute, calm and composed the next. You learn something new every day_, I think in the back of my mind.)

He rubs the back of his forehead. "Um.. it was someone else's?" He considers his answer, and then nods, as if confirming it.

I whip my head around and glare at him suspiciously. Throughout this whole conversation, I was unwilling to look at him too closely. Maybe it _was_ the blood, like he said (or my freaky delusion pointing out similarities between him and F- I mean, someone else). Or the blood.

Anyway, he's standing next to the green/red blood splattered couch, and I'm standing on the other side of it. We're both gripping on to the sides in order to stand up properly.

He seems to notice the mess he's made on the couch, and guiltily tries to wipe it off with some nearby towels. Giving up after a while, he straightens and gives me his famous 'confident superhero' grin. At least, he tries to, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Well, I'd better go, citizen. Thanks for everything!"

He leaps into the air. Then, arms flailing, he lands _hard_on the ground. "No, no, no, no!" he says angrily, his voice slightly muffled by the carpet.

I hold out my hand and help him up. He frowns at his chest, muttering heatedly, and I catch the words "Plasmius" and "frootloop" escape his mouth.

"What?"

He glances at me, as if fully realizing my presence for the first time. "I'm gonna need a phone and some transportation," he declares solemnly. "Oh, and some more bandages."

* * *

><p><strong>Ooooohhhh Vlad's involved. Yes, I had to.<strong>


	13. Little Badger

**A/N: Little weird. Jack gets paranoid over protecting his fudge. Danny's hungry. It's a simple midnight snack gone horribly wrong.**

* * *

><p>Little Badger<p>

* * *

><p>Never go to my dad for help.<p>

_Especially_ for school.

I mean no offense, but it's a pretty well known fact. Let's just say, school isn't exactly Dad's forte. He's strictly last resort for any help studying. Like, final option only.

Unfortunately, he _was_ my final option this time.

* * *

><p>"Dad?" I asked hesitantly, stepping into the oddly silent lab.<p>

"Hey, hey, Danny!" Dad's voice boomed across the lab. "Wanna test out my new Fenton Ghost Annihilator?"

I smiled weakly. Even with Dad being Dad, his weapons were usually painful. "Um... no?" I cautioned a few more steps inside, and found my dad hunched over his newest invention. The lab was a mess (as usual) and I weaved my way through the junk until I finally reached Dad.

"Listen, Dad," I started. "I have this major biology test tomorrow-"

"And you're asking your own father for help?" I swear I saw his eyes watering as he hugged (strangled) me. "Danny, I'm so grateful."

"Well," I mumbled. "Jazz and Mom are out shopping, so..." I trailed off as his grin slowly faded. "So I came to my greatest dad ever!" I patted his orange-hazmat clad shoulder. "Can you quiz me?"

Dad nodded and patted the chair next to him. I sat down and handed him my study guide.

"Hmm…" Dad read over the sheet. "What are dolphins?"

"Mammals?"

"Yes!" he clapped me on the back. "What do toads eat?"

"They're carnivores, right?" I guessed.

"No," Dad paused and read the paper. "They're insectivores, sorry. Next question: What are badgers?"

"Amphibians?"

Dad frowned. "Not quite... Badgers are short legged omnivores known for their digging skills, particularly in garbage cans for food," he recited. Suddenly, a glazed look came over his eyes, and he stared into the distance for a while.

"Uh, Dad?" I waved my hand over his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Dad blinked. "Badgers," he murmured. "Steal food."

"Uh…"

Dad shook his head, as if clearing it. "What did you say, Danny-boy? I'm sorry; I have some… stuff to do. You'll do fine on your test, okay, bye!" With that, he shoved the study guide into my hands and ushered me to the stairs.

I shot a quizzical glance at him and then ran upstairs. How was I supposed to study now?

* * *

><p>Five hours, four Skulker attacks, ten Box Ghost appearances, and about twenty minutes of studying later, I was <em>exhausted<em>. And hungry.

I checked the clock, rubbing my weary eyes. 2 am. I could've dropped then and there, but my stomach was rumbling, and getting pretty loud.

I'd missed dinner in my assiduous 'studying', and right now, I was hungry enough to eat a horse. Or even Mom's _cooking_.

I stole downstairs, careful not to let the stairs creak, and made my way to the Promised Land: the kitchen.

_Hmm…_ I thought_. Mom might've left some leftovers for me. _

I opened the fridge carefully, and my eyes widened at the glorious sight.

_Fudge_. Tons of it.

One thing I had definitely inherited from Dad was my love of fudge. Unfortunately, Dad usually ate all of it before I could sneak a bite. But this time, it was _all mine._

I rubbed my hands greedily, and then reached out to take some.

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! **

A startling alarm emitted from the fridge and I jumped like forty feet in the air, petrified. I don't know what I was expecting (I blame my sleep and hunger deprivation) but I automatically turned into Phantom and stuffed the fudge into my mouth.

"The badger traps!" I heard Dad's voice as he lumbered down the stairs.

_Dad!_ I thought. _Wait- badger traps?_

"GHOST!"

I whirled around to find none other than my dad, in his pajamas and clutching an ecto-gun the size of my face.

_Not good._

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Amity Park! I'm Lance Thunder, bringing you some breaking news because my acting career didn't take off like I wanted.<p>

"Anyway, infamous Danny "Invisobil" Phantom has been allegedly raiding citizens' houses for food. Yes, I repeat, _food_. This is most definitely some sort of evil scheme… Possibly to make Amity Park run out of food?

"The victim, Jack Fenton, a ghost hunter and inventor, said, 'I set up some badger traps to protect my family from those pesky raiders, but I found the evil ghost kid instead, his mouth stuffed with fudge!'

"More on this 'Green-Eyed Badger' is coming up after this quick commercial break."

* * *

><p><strong>Ha ha... Danny the badger, cause Vlad always calls him "Little Badger"… ha... You don't get it? <strong>


	14. Bets

**A/N: I update wayyy too much. But I digress! This story takes place right after Phantom Planet. If anyone doesn't remember the end of that episode, Tucker ends up mayor and Danny and Sam finally end up together. Basically, Tucker ties up some loose ends…**

* * *

><p>Bets<p>

* * *

><p>He was already rich, but this wasn't about money anymore.<p>

It was about pride. And winning.

But most of all, rubbing it into people's faces.

Tucker rubbed his hands together greedily, feeling more like Ebenezer Scrooge than ever.

* * *

><p>It was regular day as his job as mayor- which was totally cool, by the way. Sure, he had to manage the town, but if <em>Vlad<em> could do it, he certainly could. And there were obvious pros: he had power, assistants, his own office, and a private tutor instead of having to endure school. Plus, he'd made Sam and Danny official passes so they could visit him anytime.

But today was different- he had another responsibility.

So he called in sick, knowing full well that his lovely assistant could take care of business without him. And then, he dressed in his old yellow shirt, khakis, and PDA and proceeded to walk around town, acting like the lone wolf.

First up on his hit list: Lancer.

Tucker felt a brief sense of sentimentality as he tiptoed his way across Casper High's linoleum floors. It faded quickly when he actually remembered what his school years and actually been about: traumatic experiences involving flagpoles, wedgies, and reading. So much reading.

He stopped walking, reaching his destination. He reached up one hand to knock on the door, before remembering who he really was. He smiled, and then flung the door open.

"Hello, Casper High! This is your mayor speaking!" Tucker sauntered inside, to find his fellow classmates half asleep, and Lancer at the front of the class, apparently giving a lecture.

Danny and Sam, holding hands and sitting in their usual corner in the back (_Lovebirds_, Tucker thought dryly), looked up and beamed at their best friend. Tucker waved at them, and then turned to the class. Familiar faces gazed back at him: Dash, Kwan, Star, and Paulina, to name a few. However, they didn't look as happy as he'd expected. No matter, though.

Tucker whispered something in Lancer's ear, and winked. Lancer frowned in exasperation, but stepped back and let him speak.

"Hey, guys! I've got something very, very important to ask you!" Tucker glanced at Danny and Sam, who looked confused. "Remember my friends, Danny and Sam?"

The class rolled its eyes.

"Okay, dumb question. But remember when they used to deny being lovebirds?"

Both Danny and Sam blushed furiously.

"And remember my bets?"

Now Danny and Sam looked furious. Tucker flashed them a smile, and continued talking. "All of you said that they'd never realize how they obviously liked each other, but they _finally_ did! So, Mr. Lancer, you owe me twenty bucks, Dash, five, Kwan, ten, Star…"

Tucker spent the rest of the class collecting his money, and avoiding Sam and Danny's death glares.

Being right was sweet.

* * *

><p><strong>Story Time! In school, one of our coolest substitute teachers is going to give this last lecture speech. So we've got these posters around school advertising it, and I saw one that said this: <strong>

**Attend Mr. Z's lecture?**

**CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. **

**The best part: it had that boss stick figure from rage comics on it. I laughed. And then I attended the lecture. **


	15. Spring Ahead!

**A/N: Bit late, but it's the first day of spring! So, yay!**

* * *

><p>Spring Ahead!<p>

* * *

><p>Lungs racing and heart pounding, Danny risked a glance at his watch, and then jammed his foot down onto the pedal of his scooter.<p>

9:58! He _had _to make it!

Just this morning, his unusually stern father had set his curfew at 10:00 p.m., and no later than, or he'd be grounded for 3 months.

It really wasn't his fault that his ghostly escapades often interfered with his going home, but he couldn't tell his parents that.

Danny turned a corner, and, spotting his house from afar, sped up slightly.

9:59. _Come on, _he thought. _Please, please, please-_

Danny reached his front door, victoriously flinging his scooter and helmet aside. He opened the door as slowly and quietly as possible and crept inside. He had expected his dad, waiting at the door, but was instead engulfed in a sudden and startling darkness.

"Mom? Dad? I'm home… on time!" he called out.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a lamp switch on and a chair swivel around to face him.

"You're late," his dad claimed, a disappointed scowl on his face.

Danny gulped and checked his watch again. "No, its 10:00! On the dot!"

Another light switched on from the kitchen, and Danny watched in apprehension as his mom entered the room, a panicked look on her face. She put her hands on her hips (a warning sign for Danny) and practically shrieked, "Where have you _been_? Bed empty, no note! You could've _died_! It's 11 at night, for god's sake!"

"What? No, no, no, it's-" Danny broke off, checking his watch once more. "It's only 10:01!"

Jazz, clad in her pajamas, arrived at the top of the stairs. Danny braced himself for another rant from her, but she just yawned and clambered downstairs. As she passed him, she rumpled Danny's hair (if he wasn't panicking right now, he would've remembered to be grossed out).

"Sorry, little brother. Don't you remember? It's daylight savings. You forgot to turn your watch ahead one hour."


	16. Lost and Found

**A/N: Wrote this while listening to All Fall Down, by OneRepublic… even though this doesn't really have to do with the song, just the feeling you get while listening to it.**

* * *

><p>Lost and Found<p>

* * *

><p>She sat her bed, letting her head hang down. She'd refrained from crying, because she was a Manson and a goth, and she refused to cry, because there was still hope.<p>

She was clutching an old, tattered envelope in her hand. Hastily scrawled on the front were the words, "_Open only when you're really, really sad_," in Danny's almost unintelligible handwriting.

And she was sad.

So, _very_, sad.

Danny'd given her this envelope before, on her birthday. She'd smiled and hugged him, promising that she'd never open it, as long as he was with her.

But now, he wasn't here.

And Sam's world was crashing down. Danny was gone, and she still couldn't register that fact. She didn't know where he'd run off too, or whether he was even _alive_ anymore, and-

She took deep, shuddering breaths, in a futile effort to calm herself down.

She had looked- God, she had looked. Everywhere.

And he wasn't there.

So she stuck her finger into the flap of the envelope and ripped it open. Inside was a photo.

One small photo. Sam touched it, tears blurring her eyesight.

The picture displayed her and Danny, laughing and holding hands while sitting on their favorite hilltop.

…Favorite hilltop. How many _times_ had Danny told her about how much he loved that _freaking_ hill? He told her that he often went there to think.

Sam smiled, for once in days.

She knew where Danny was.


	17. Incarcaration

**A/N: I put snarky!Danny in a court setting. And then this happened.**

* * *

><p>Incarceration<p>

* * *

><p>Because of the Constitution, every citizen of the United States gets every right and freedom they deserve, along with the government's protection. Unfortunately for me, I'm not a citizen.<p>

I'm not even human.

* * *

><p>It's like hell in this stuffy room. The windows are bolted shut, and are so dusty that I can't see even a glimpse of daylight. And it's like 500,000 degrees in here, thus proving my theory.<p>

The whole room is filled with the rustle of papers, people conversing in hushed tones, and the faint smell of trepidation and anxiety.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Stanton," a voice booms.

"Honorable, my ass," I mutter under my breath.

I watch as a pasty-faced, portly man in his 50s clambers onto the highest chair, plops down, and clears his throat.

My lawyer, a nervous and jittery man, shoots a glance my way, and then returns to his notes with an air of desperation. I chuckle at the irony: I, the "convicted", am somehow calmer than my own attorney. I can't help but think that its because he's afraid of his own client, what with me being who I am.

I can tell that this is his first case, too; when you're under arrest and too poor to pay for your own attorney, the court has to provide one for you. And luckily for me, they always provide rookies for the criminals. Hey, that's democracy at work for you.

I spot the other lawyer chatting with the judge, and they catch me. I stare back and smile boldly, trying to look at ease. I would've gone as far as to put my hands behind my head and lean back in my chair, but my handcuffs restrict my movements to a minimum.

Yeah, handcuffs, constructed by the ever-so-wonderful Guys in White. They restrict my ghost powers, which sucks; even worse, I can't scratch my itchy nose. The GIW reasoning is that I'm "dangerous" and "a threat to the public".

I'm a threat, all right, beaten and bruised by the "scientists" who tested me in the GIW's secret facility. How's that been, you ask? Answer: freakin' sucks. Yeah, it's like prison, basically, except everything's clean and sterilized and _white- _I honestly hate white now. There's really bad hospitality, uncomfortable beds, and even worse- the food's terrible.

I return from my reverie, just in time to hear the oh-so-honorable judge call, "Mr. Phantom?"

I turn my head to look at him. "Yes, Your Honor?"

"We will begin the trial now."

_Okay, thanks for the warning,_ I think.

"Beginning statement from the defense, please," Judge Stanton demands.

My lawyer gulps, and stands awkwardly. "The defense pleads not guilty for the murder of Jazz Fenton."

* * *

><p><strong>Will most likely be continued. Soon. (Hopefully).<strong>

**PS- Guys, I'm home alone cuz my parents work late, so I'm blasting my music while typing this (as usual), and I just heard this cracking noise from outside, and basically hollered bloody murder. It was so creepy O.o**


	18. Incarceration Part Two

**A/N: Maybe I should make this its own story… Any thoughts?**

* * *

><p>Incarceration (Part Two)<p>

* * *

><p>The distant wail of sirens finally registers in my brain. I get up from my crouching position, wincing when my arm and ankle send a flash of pain up my nerves. My eyes burn and I squeeze them hard, allowing the tears to escape and track down my grimy face.<p>

There's a lump next to me. I try not to look at it, but spot red hair peeping out from a mess of blood and mud. It's sickening, and I turn away.

Finally, I take a deep breath and turn around; only to find the one person I hate the most watching me, like I'm in some dramatic soap opera.

"Vlad," I growl.

"Yes, Daniel?" he asks innocently. "Wait a second- what's that behind you?"

My fists clench, energy pooling into them automatically. "You didn't have to. You didn't have to _kill her!_"

Vlad's crimson eyes blaze with a maniacal gleam I've never seen in him.

"I didn't kill her- you did." He laughs evilly and disappears, his cape swooping around me.

I let my hands relax and the tears come back.

His words repeat in my brain. _You did. You killed her._

Had I? Maybe if I'd reached here quicker. If I'd only listened to her. If I'd stopped Vlad in time.

My mind swirls, and I collapse next to the body.

"I'm sorry, Jazz..."

* * *

><p>"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, or so help you God?" the attorney drawls.<p>

His impudence makes up for my attorney's lack of confidence. I grimace at the inequity, but my mouth suddenly falls open as I spot the witness.

My mom, clad in black, nods at the lawyer. "I do."

"Then, can you please answer a few questions for me?"

She nods again, looking down at the desk.

"Can you please point out the criminal and tell me his name?"

She looks up, and I can see deep circles in her eyes. She hasn't been sleeping. Obviously, its hard when her daughter's dead and her son's missing.

A shaky finger points at me, but she refuses to meet my eye. "Danny Phantom," she whispers.

I could've broken down in tears right there, at the cruelty in her voice. It's directed at _me_.

She hates me.

* * *

><p><strong>PS- Only THREE more days until Spring Break! I'm going on a cruise :D Bahamas, here I come!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Can you please, please, please tell me this in a review:<strong>

**1) Should I turn this into it's own story?**

**2) How's the story so far?**


	19. Scrabble

**A/N: Incarceration is its own story. Yay?**

**100 words of fluff. Fluffy fluff… stuff. Just read it, okay?**

* * *

><p>Scrabble<p>

* * *

><p>Sam gazes across the board, to a black haired boy in deep concentration. After what seems like severe consideration, he hesitantly reaches over and slides a few pieces on.<p>

She smiles as his tongue sticks out- a bad (but adorable) habit.

She spots the words "I" and what looks like "land".

"Island has an s in it, Danny," she says as he glances up at her.

"I'm not spelling island, Sam."

She tilts her head in confusion and then looks back at the board.

Eight letters lay crookedly on their designated areas.

Danny reads them out shyly. "I love you."


	20. Incarceration Part Three

**A/N: New chapter! Is not its own story because I realized I would never finish it... Anyone wanna adopt it? **

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday. 12:52 p.m.<strong>

* * *

><p>"Your Honor, this affidavit must be libel…"<p>

I zone out, not knowing half the words the other lawyer is saying and not caring to.

Staring at the ceiling, I can't help the urge to just float up there and watch the trial that way instead. However, I'm stuck on the ground.

"Mr. Phantom?"

It takes me some time, but I tear my eyes off the ceiling and onto the pudgy judge. _Pudgy Judgy_, I think. Hey, it's been over four hours stuck in this place- my brain is exhausted.

My lawyer nudges me slightly, so I stand up. "Yes?" I answer lazily.

He clears his throat, frowning.

"Yes, Your Honor," I amend.

"Are you paying attention to your own trial?"

I shrug impulsively- the standard teenage response. "Yeah."

"Then you know that it's time for the lunch break," he declares histrionically.

_Yes, food!_ I feel like slapping myself. This is my life at the stake here, and I'm acting like the most ignorant and sarcastic teenager on earth. But I'm hungry, and I keep the façade up, knowing it annoys the judge.

"Yes, Your Honor. Sorry, Your Honor," I mutter.

He looks down at me from his high podium, and gives me a stern look. I refrain from grinning like an idiot and instead, file out of the bench along with the rest of the crowd.

_Freedom! _I think.

How ironic, because it doesn't seem like I'm gonna be free for a _long_ time.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. 11:15 p.m.<strong>

* * *

><p>"Vlad <em>Plasmius<em>."

"You called?"

I shake my head, and glare at my archenemy.

Our surroundings remind me of those western movies- a windy clearing in a forest, with us standing about 10 feet apart. I expect "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" song to start playing any second.

It doesn't. Instead, Vlad unexpectedly shoots a pink blast right at my chest. I fly back, too surprised to even scream.

I switch gears and turn intangible. I escape into the ground, and fly around behind him. Its like he has some sixth sense- I reach out to hit him with my best ghost ray, and he deflects without even turning around.

I scream this time, as he catches my arm and somehow electrocutes me. He lets go, laughing as I collapse.

I'm out of breath and bruised, and I haven't even landed a punch yet. I get up and zoom over his head.

His red eyes narrow, and then he relaxes his newest blast. "Stop the fighting, Daniel. You know I'll win anyway."

I stay tense, floating about 10 feet above him. "How do you know?"

A shriek of pure fear erupts from behind me. My head turns, and my eyes widen at the sight behind me.

Right next to me- Vlad (probably a clone), clutching a struggling Jazz. Her hair sweeps around her face because of the wind, but her eyes are watering because of something else. I realize the cause when I notice her arm- it's bloody and twisted at an impossible angle.

"What are you _doing_?" I can't even comprehend this. I just saw her, like, two hours ago. But wait... What had she told me? It suddenly dawns on me.

I immediately fly to save her, but Vlad shoots me from behind. I fall hard onto the ground, my breath leaving my body.

"No, no, Daniel. We can't have you saving her already! Where's the fun in that?" Vlad steps up in front of me, and smiles. "Try and find her."

He leans over and shocks me one last time. I tremble violently, and after a while, stop, gasping for breath.

When I open my eyes, Jazz is gone, and I am alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Listening to Paramore helps me get into a good, snarky!Danny writing stage. Any Paramore fans here?<strong>


	21. it's raining, it's pouring

**A/N: I sort of forgot this existed. **

* * *

><p><strong>he went to bed and bumped his head and couldn't wake up in the morning<strong>

* * *

><p>Rain pounded on the windows and roof of Casper High School, unrelenting and merciless. The students felt its oppressiveness, darkening their already glum moods while they passed from class to class. No one dared step outside; even Tetslaff spared her students from an outdoor gym class with such a raging storm.<p>

Except for one lone soul: a pale, lifeless looking man, whom on closer inspection, was not a man at all but only the ghostly remnants of a man. He wore a shark skin suit and a monocle, as if he had died in the middle of afternoon tea in the 50s. He was frantically moving a giant machine, unlike any ever invented, across the roof's concrete floor, muttering slightly to himself. The machine had a long, thin needle protruding five feet from the top. The specter could not seem to find a satisfactory spot for the machine to rest; he continued to drag it across, ignoring its horrid banshee-like screeches caused by metal on concrete.

"Then they'll see," he proclaimed, still pushing. "They'll all see!"

* * *

><p>Inside, safe from the rain and thunder and lightning, it was currently fourth period for the students. Tucker, Sam and Danny, having just finished lunch, were making their way to their class, the last one they had to suffer through before attempting to run to the buses without potentially drowning.<p>

"This is the last time you're letting me eat all those cheeseburgers, Danny," Tucker spit out through wheezes. "And God, why does this school have _so_ _many_ _steps_?"

Danny reached over and held on to Tucker's bag. "Stay strong, buddy. Just a few more to go-"

"No," Tucker breathed. "I don't think I'm gonna make it. The end is nigh." They wheeled around to the next step of stairs. "Go on.. without me.."

A flash of purple and black interrupted their tragic farewells. It was Sam, hardly breathless, even after running up 3 flights of stairs with a heavy backpack. "Tucker, it's the third floor of our school, not the last floor on the Eiffel Tower."

"Sam. You were always-" He broke off to take a deep breath. "-so kind and thoughtful to your friends. I'll always remember that about you."

Danny and Sam shared a look over Tucker's beret and, simultaneously taking hold of his arms, proceeded to lug him up the last few steps.

Tucker's eyes opened slowly to the hustle and bustle of the third floor hallway. He raised his arms up and shouted, "VICTORY! THY NAME IS TUCKER!"

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><p>All three had classes on the third floor, but not the same class. It would've been highly improbable and a little too lucky for them to get into the same exact classes. (Even with Tucker, computer whiz.) So Sam and Danny bid Tucker farewell and walked to English, while Tucker continued his laborious journey to Calculus.<p>

"So," Danny started as they pushed through the crowd towards their classroom.

"So."

"I think Tucker really needs to invest in a good inhaler."

Sam smiled. "Or just cut back on the meat. But we both know that's impossible."

Danny laughed, but stopped abruptly when a stream of icy cold mist escaped his mouth. He sighed. "Great."

It didn't escape Sam's notice either. "Lancer's gonna kill you for being late again."

"I know.." Danny rubbed the back of his neck, slightly irritated in this new ghost. "I swear, if it's the Box Ghost again-" He broke off when his ghost sense went off again.

They were nearing their classroom now. "You know, doesn't the ghost usually show up by now?" Sam noticed.

"Yeah.. Must be hiding somewhere." Danny pursed his lips in concentration. Should he risk Lancer's wrath or risk a potential ghost threat? "Screw it. I need to at least try to get a passing grade in English." With that, he marched rather determinedly into English, Sam following closely behind.

"It's not that cold outside, I think if you start breathing frost someone's going to notice," she remarked wryly as they took their usual seats in the back.

The room was filled with bored teenagers, already half-asleep and unwilling to pay attention. Lancer was in the middle of writing something on the board, and as he stepped away, Danny could make out the words: Test on _The Crucible _today!

"Crap," he muttered. "Hey, Sam. What's _The Crucible _about?"

Sam shot him a sympathetic look. "Hypocrisy, revenge, mass hysteria, theocracy-"

Danny buried his face in his hands, groaning slightly. "I should've gone after the ghost."

Lancer called the class to attention, and began handing out the quizzes. Danny woefully took the paper like he was being handed his death sentence. After about ten minutes, the class settled into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by pencil scratching on paper, the occasional feet shuffling and of course, the battering rain.

Danny glanced down at the paper. He hadn't slept in over 40 hours, courtesy of Skulker and a few other tiny annoyances. The effects hadn't really taken their toll until now, when he realized that the words were swimming above the paper in hazy swirls. Danny sighed in frustration, and started bracing himself for the inevitable F he would soon receive.

_Screech. SCREECH. _The class, or at least the ones not absorbed in the test, looked up with matching befuddled looks. The sound was irritating, like nails on a chalkboard.

Lancer cleared his throat. "Nothing to worry about. They're probably just moving some desk in the class above. Concentrate on the test; its 100 points and worth about a fourth of your grade!"

Danny continued to gaze up, but at the walls instead of the ceiling. Sam was right: usually, the ghost would make himself or herself clear by now by bursting through the walls or the door or at least making some students scream in the hallway. Danny desperately needed a distraction.

_SCREEEECH_. Jesus Christ, that noise could drive anyone insane.

And that anyone seemed to be Lancer. As Danny watched, Lancer's face steadily changed from pale to a bright, livid red, a vein in his forehead pulsing wildly. Slamming one hand on his desk, he declared, "_The Tell-Tale Heart_! I'm going to find out what that infernal noise is. Class, finish your tests. Do not cheat or I will fail you all." He marched out, but not before glaring at all the troublemakers (including Danny).

The class held their breath, waiting for his footsteps to fade away, before bursting into hushed whispers about practically anything but the test.

"Do you think he'll go all Psycho on the class above and kill them for disrupting him?"

"Wow, its raining like a bitch out there, isn't it?"

"Hey, what's for dinner, Mom?"

Feeling as though his prayers had been answered by some spirit, Danny turned to Sam. "Talk about luck, huh?"

Sam shook her head but smiled nevertheless. "He'll be back soon."

Danny leaned back in his chair, stretching. "Yeah, but at least I get a little bit of peace until then." He cracked his neck, feeling satisfied when all the air bubbles popped. "I haven't been able to sleep lately. Damn Ghost Portal."

"Do you need our help? 'Cause Tucker and I have no problem with that." Sam sounded worried.

"Nah." Danny waved her concerns off. "Just a part of the job description, I guess."

Sam still looked dubious. "If you say so."

"Anyway, what happened with the whole ghost sense but no ghost thing? Do you think the ghost left or somethi-"

_SCREEEEEEEEEECH. _The unholy wailing that seemed to be coming from upstairs cut him off.

"God, those desks are driving me-" Sam broke off mid-sentence. "Danny?" Her voice suddenly held a hint of fear.

"Hmm?"

"The sound is coming from upstairs, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"We're on the top floor. There is no upstairs."

Danny's eyes widened infinitesimally. "Ghost on the roof?"

"Ghost on the roof."

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><p><strong>I will write any suggestions you have: plot bunnies, songfics, I'll try my best to do them all. <strong>


	22. don't call my name

**A/N: I always found it a little funny when people in fanfics made Danny have these extreme overreactions to being called Dan.**

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><p><strong>don't call my name<strong>

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><p>Danny leaned back into his chair, stretching his arms and legs as far as he could. He heard his bones crack and sighed loudly. "How much longer do we have to wait?"<p>

"Patience is a virtue," his mom replied without looking up from her Home Arts magazine. "I'm sure he's just running late."

Danny grumbled, shifting in his chair again.

Finally, _finally_, a woman in Looney Tunes scrubs walked out into the waiting room. "Dr. Smith is ready to see you," she said, quickly checking her clipboard, "Dan?"

Blood pounded in his ears. On the outside, he barely even blinked at the name, but he was seeing red. "What did you call me?" he asked calmly, almost disinterestedly.

The nurse looked a little taken aback to see a short fourteen year old adolescent glaring at her. "Um... Dan? Is that not your name?"

Danny's breathing picked up speed. His eyes must've flashed neon green because the nurse jumped in shock. Leaping to his feet, Danny knocked the clipboard out of the lady's hands. "_Don't_ call me Dan," he growled.

Maddie put a hand on her son's shoulder, which he violently shrugged off. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

Hot boiling tears tracked down his face as he continued to stare at the clipboard. His hands were clenched so tight that he could feel the skin break, making angry welts. "I'm not him, I'll never be him."

"Dan-"

"DON'T CALL ME DAN. DON'T CALL ME DAN!" Danny raised his arm and, in one fluid motion, burned the clipboard with a quick energy blast.

The nurse started yelling hysterically and his mom pulled a huge ghost bazooka seemingly out of nowhere. "What is going on, Danny?"

"I WON'T BE DAN!" Blind with rage, Danny let the two white rings wash over him and flew to the top of the room. With one deep breath, he let out a ghostly wail so insanely powerful that everyone and everything in a 20-mile radius dropped dead. His eyes burned with red ghostly hatred, his skin turning paler by the second. His white hair seemed to billow out like fire.

How ironic.

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><p><strong>i'm not your babe, Fernandooooo<strong>


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